


like a fool, i fell in love with you

by penrosequartz



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: (like idiots), Dancing and Singing, Inspired by Music, Late Night at the Office, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, they're in love ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosequartz/pseuds/penrosequartz
Summary: “Dance with me.”Adam is right in front of him, the coffee table shoved aside. Fergus didn’t even notice him move it.“What?” Fergus splutters, choking on his flat white, “Are you serious?”





	like a fool, i fell in love with you

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZV7akaSo0s)

“Sorry about the- you know, it’s just easier to tune in when I can tune out,” Adam mutters.

“It’s fine,” Fergus nods, opening his laptop. Adam likes to listen to music while he works; apparently he made a habit of it in university and hasn’t stopped. It’s kind of endearing, actually, especially when Fergus isn’t doing any work of his own, just zoning out and hearing Adam hum along, watching him mouth the words. Today, however, he has a report to draft. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be writing - fucking DoSAC with its bullshit protocols and even more bullshit policies. Mannion has absolutely no idea of how to navigate the modern world, and it certainly shows when he has to explain any legislative concepts he’s considering. So much for Silicon Playgrounds; Peter probably doesn’t even know what silicon is. Fergus can almost hear him in his head, _“Silicon? Don’t they use that in buildings?”_

As Adam pulls his earphones out of his pocket, the music switches to something that sounds familiar, but not quite familiar enough for Fergus to put a name to.

“Hang on,” he holds his hand out to still Adam from plugging his earphones in, “What is this?”

Adam shoots him a disdainful look.

“Come on, you know what this is,” he frowns, “Surely.”

The guitar riff rings out, slightly tinny, rolling from Adam’s phone around Fergus’ office. They’re there late, take-away Chinese haphazardly strewn across the small room, and the rest of the building is empty from what Fergus saw, returning from his twilight coffee run. He won’t admit it - not even to himself - but there’s no compelling reason to be there. He could have written the report at home, on his own. He could have saved himself from an uncomfortably sleepless night.

Oh, no, hold on, he couldn’t have. Because if he was at home, alone, he would still be thinking about Adam, about how he was beginning to simply enjoy spending time with him, enjoy looking at him and laughing with him, and by 4AM he would still be wasting away in front of the telly watching News24 on mute, wondering how Adam’s hands would feel in his.

_What will you do when you get lonely?_

Adam sings the line with a stupid smirk on his perfect face. He’s not a spectacular singer - pretty terrible, actually, but his voice sounds smooth, and to Fergus’ tired brain, almost like warm whiskey. The way Adam’s eyes glint sometimes make him think _yes, I’m right, aren’t I? Tell me I’m right._ He has to be. Adam walks close behind him and breathes his air and Fergus _knows,_ there’s something in that space between them that goes unsaid and untouched. He wants to reach out and pop the tension so badly it hurts.

“Sorry, I don’t think I do know this one, actually,” Fergus tries to shrug it off, but the white line of Adam’s toothy smile imprints itself behind his eyelids like an LED.

“Oh, come off it!” Adam laughs, “Eric Clapton, mate, you’re fucking with me - you really don’t know this song?”

_Layla, you’ve got me on my knees…_

Adam’s still crooning at him like an idiot, but Fergus has to admit, it’s a nice image. He decides he likes the song, gives Adam an approving nod, and expects the conversation is over. He’s wrong.

“Dance with me.”

Adam is right in front of him, the coffee table shoved aside. Fergus didn’t even notice him move it.

“What?” Fergus splutters, choking on his flat white, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, come on, don’t be shy,” Adam moves in some weird, fluid way that Fergus can only assume he believes is dancing. It’s decidedly _not,_ but he supposes it’ll have to do.

Adam pulls him to his feet, starts swaying his arms like a complete twat, and maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s just the sheer power of the man in front of him, but Fergus joins in, grinning and tripping over his own shoes. He could have rationalised this away as a burning need to take a break from work, if he hadn’t just been across the street grabbing liquid adrenaline to keep his fucking eyes open. Christ, he’s tired, right to his bones, and-

Adam grabs him by the tie and pulls him just an inch closer. Fergus’ brain is awake. Very, very fucking awake.

He’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything. How far it is to get to the door. How many containers are on the ground. His laptop, behind him, and shoved to the side of the couch he’d been sitting on. The exact distance between him and Adam, growing smaller by the second.

They touch. Adam’s forehead gently rests against his, and it’s so fucking soft, and nice, and impossible to reconcile with the fact that Fergus’ mind is going a million miles an hour, that he feels like he might explode. Adam smells like cigarette smoke and cologne and electricity.

“I’m not reading this wrong, am I?” he asks, meeting Fergus’ eyes.

Fergus grabs the back of his neck and drags him down. He’s definitely making out to music more often, this is _good,_ the guitar setting a rhythm for the way Adam runs his hands down Fergus’ sides. Warmth is radiating out from his core, the cold air of the night-time office trying to beat it back and finally, finally relenting as his body catches alight. The spark changes to wildfire in an instant.

Adam kisses away from his mouth, down his neck, quickly and skilfully removing Fergus’ tie and undoing his shirt buttons, and something about that triggers the knowledge that Fergus is _here,_ in fucking _DoSAC,_  snogging his advisor while surrounded by take-away containers and plastic forks. That particular knowledge is removed from his brain almost immediately when Adam slides lower - way lower than Fergus was expecting, actually; to his knees.

“Oh, fuck,” Fergus can feel himself going red.

“Yes, that is the general idea,” Adam gives him a cocky grin. Fergus is bloody glad there’s a couch behind him, because he feels like his knees are about to give out.

_Darling, won’t you ease my worried mind..._

The pleasant song ticks over into something with a little more energy behind it, and Fergus doesn’t bother trying to figure out what it is this time. He’s a little preoccupied.

**Author's Note:**

> i miss them


End file.
